


Sacrifice and Bliss

by awintersrose



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, PWP, Pre-Konoha, Smut Monday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:19:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awintersrose/pseuds/awintersrose
Summary: In order to benefit the greater good, sometimes sacrifices must be made. To secure the promise of peace, a daughter of the Uzumaki enters into a marriage contract with the Uchiha clan heir.





	

The day that Uzumaki Mito had been dreading most had already passed like a rogue whirlwind. With the formal ceremony complete and the modest clan celebration coming to an end, she now sat beside her legal husband, a man who was for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger to her. The constant threat of war had led her to the decision that forced her to serve as a sacrificial lamb, given over to a predator of the night for the sake of preserving everything she held dear, and protecting the ones she loved. The treaty that ended the fighting was contingent upon her cooperation, and thus she complied, being bound in name and property to the leader of a rival clan, a man whose name struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. A man who, within a short time, would also claim her body, and her innocence.

Mito shivered inwardly as she stole a sidelong glance at her new husband, who instantly met her eyes with his own intense gaze. She felt as though she was held captive by those dark, piercing eyes that she should have had reason to fear, for at any moment, they might be swirled through with the fiery red glow of a power that could overtake her will in but a second. Yet Uchiha Madara looked at her with a gentleness she would have never expected of a warlord with a level of martial prowess only matched by one other man within the known world. He was also handsome, much more so than she had expected based on his description, with aristocratic features, unblemished ivory-pale skin, and hair the color of a raven’s wing, falling wild and untamed down his back.

“Shall we retire for the evening? I fear it has been quite a long day for the both of us.” he said quietly, his deep voice strangely melodic and soothing to her nerves. Warmth pooled unexpectedly within her middle, and she immediately blamed the liberal amounts of plum wine she had been imbibing throughout the banquet. Mito had felt wholly out of place the entire time, her red hair marking her as a lone and painfully conspicuous ray of color amongst his kinsmen.

“If you wish, Uchiha-sama.” she replied, taking another sip of the wine, letting its sumptuous sweetness roll across her tongue. She stared into the nearly empty cup, knowing that stalling the inevitable would only make it more difficult to move forward with what came next.

“Please, you may call me by name, I do not wish for such formalities between us.”

Mito dipped her head slightly. “Then, yes, if you wish, Madara-san.”

He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face back up to look at him. The inscrutable look in his dark grey eyes was intimidating and surprisingly thrilling, and Mito tried to defy the urge to pull away. 

“Just Madara.”

Her deep blue eyes grew wide, and he smiled slightly at the innocence of her response. His change in expression was merely a soft curve at the corner of his mouth, but it stole her breath.

“Yes, Madara.”

 

* * *

 

A quiet young woman led Mito into a spacious room with a pleasantly warm fire already crackling in the hearth, and a large futon laid out with soft, spotless linens. The young servant, or family member, Mito was not quite certain, silently assisted the Uzumaki heiress in disrobing, removing the layers of her formal kimono with deft hands, until she was left in the thin silk of the innermost layer. Piece by piece, her hair was taken down from its elaborate coiffure, the kanzashi and jeweled pins all carefully stored away for safekeeping. Mito’s long, vibrant red hair fell in soft waves past her waist, contrasting beautifully against the white silk covering her body.

There was a soft knock on the wooden panel of the door, and Mito’s voice felt very far away as she assented to her visitor’s entry. It was his house, and his personal suite of rooms, it seemed silly for him to need to knock, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. The door slid open, and her husband entered the room, dressed in a dark blue yukata, accented by red and white embroidery, and the uchiwa motif that would now become a permanent fixture in Mito’s life. He was followed by a young man bearing refreshments, and once the items were settled on the low table near the hearth, Madara signaled for both servants to be dismissed.

Mito breathed in deeply as she came face to face with the striking young man, his eyes looking over her form with warmth and a sense of approval. He stepped closer to her, cautiously, as if approaching a wounded or spooked animal. When she did not react negatively, he picked up her hand in his own, and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

“I regret that we have not had more time to get to know one another before entering such an arrangement as this. I have hoped that we might become friends, though I will understand if after tonight you wish for some time to yourself.”

“I will do whatever you see fit. You are my lord and master now, are you not?” Mito tried to prevent the anger that she had kept quelled all day from leeching into her voice. She valued peace more than she valued the sacrifice of her body, and she had resolved to do whatever she must to make it so that no more children met untimely ends on the battlefield, and that the next generation might know an end to the omnipresent violence that plagued their lives now.

“I will not take you by force, Mito. I do not seek to dishonor you in that way. I am certain we can postpone consummating the–”

“My lord, I consented with the signing of the marriage contract. I give myself over willingly. Let it be done, as I do not wish to give the elders any reason to default on the terms of the treaty. Your servants could overhear and talk. Our union has to be consummated. There can be no doubt.” Mito interrupted, her voice growing more frantic by slow degrees. Madara sighed.

“Very well, but please promise me one thing.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Stop calling me that, and do try to give me a chance to be good to you.” He raised an eyebrow, catching her gaze.

“Very well, Madara. I will try.” Mito stated, a steely look settling in her blue eyes.

Madara reached for the cups and the bottle of plum wine on the table, and he poured for both of them. He had asked for another bottle after noting that she favored it, and was thankful for the continued opportunity to take the edge off of both their nerves. He was no novice when it came to women, but he was certain that he only had one opportunity to get this right, or their marriage would begin its foundation on even shakier ground. He offered her one of the cups, and she took it without hesitation.

“To new beginnings?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone mild, and his eyes soft as he gazed at her. It was no easy task, he knew all too well that he cut an imposing figure to others even when he tried not to do so. Izuna teased him often, comparing him to an oni - scary at all times, even when at rest.

“To new beginnings.” Mito replied, draining the glass, her cheeks burning a charming shade of pink. She felt the alcohol fill her belly, radiating a pleasant sense of languor throughout her body, and she was grateful for it.

Madara drank deeply, then took both glasses and put them aside. He gently slipped an arm around her waist and drew her closer, gauging her response to his touch. When she did not resist, he pulled her more securely against the front of his body, finding her form delightfully soft against his. She smelled of jasmine, sweet, like his own night-blooming flowers in the private garden he tended to when he was home. He placed a hand on her petal-soft cheek and leaned in, brushing his lips tenderly over hers. Mito gasped, her breath puffing across his cheek, and he looked into her eyes once more, almost pleading.

“I do not wish to hurt you. Please tell me to stop if ever you should wish to stop.” he whispered, the deep timbre of his voice flowing over her, like a length of the richest silk passing over her skin. Mito nodded, as the warmth in her body continued to ebb higher. There was something about his voice that made her grow weak in the knees whenever it was combined with the uncanny gentleness shining in those otherwise deadly eyes.

He kissed her again, more deeply this time, until she found herself returning his kiss in spite of herself, molding her lips against his, while her hands clung to the soft material of his yukata. He tasted sweet, like the wine they had shared, and his lips were softer than she had imagined a man’s might be. Madara’s arms tightened around her, and she could feel the reserved strength of his body, of well-honed muscle and the lethal grace that sat coiled within his limbs. His tongue slipped past her lips, cautiously exploring, and she made a soft sound of alarm against the sensation before feeling oddly compelled to touch her tongue against his in curiosity.

A ripple of fire flicked down the column of her spine as their tongues met, spreading at the apex of her thighs, making her flesh suddenly begin to ache and pulse with want. Mito’s heartbeat hammered in her chest, and she gasped, shocked at the intensity of the responses he was already coaxing from her body with his kisses. Madara pulled away from her lips, his mouth traveling across her cheek and down the elegant curve of her neck, drawing the filmy silk away from her body. She lifted her hands to curl her fingers into the spiky ink-black fall of his hair, and his hands slipped down to her hips, holding her flush against his body. She felt the evidence of his ardor immediately, hot and hard behind the fabric of his yukata, and she froze, her anxiety rising even as she tried to resist the urge to press the now-aching parts of her own body against his.

“I want you, Mito.” Madara whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “Does that frighten you?”

“A little.” she blurted out, before she could stop herself and give a more composed answer.

“Do you wish for me to stop?” His voice sounded strained, gravelly, as his lips continued to play along the skin of her collarbone and shoulder.

“No…I don’t.” Mito replied, feeling the heat in her cheeks increase as he moved against her again, before effortlessly picking her up in his arms.

He laid her down on the futon in the center of the room, stopping for a moment to look at her and take note of the way her impossibly red hair spilled across the stark white bedcovers in much the same fashion as the blood that pooled in her cheeks, flushing them a bright red in the pale perfection of her skin. She was pure loveliness made flesh, and he had wanted her from the very first moment he saw her, years ago, during a diplomatic meeting he had attended with his father as a teenager. She had not seen nor met him back then, as it was apparent that she did not recognize him when the recent meetings to discuss their marriage contract had commenced. He hoped very much that she now liked what she saw.

Madara braced himself on his forearms, kissing her again and again, drinking in the softness of her sighs, before his hands felt for the wide sash holding her robe closed. Her dainty hands covered his and guided them to where the knot was tucked beneath the belt, and he looked up at her, surprised to find the cautious flicker of desire in her sapphire eyes. He made quick work of the knot, lifting her to unwind the sash. He took a deep breath before parting the robe, baring her body to his voracious gaze, groaning softly at the sight of her perfect porcelain skin, coral-pink tipped breasts, and the soft red hair crowning the delta of her femininity.

“You are beautiful, Mito.” he whispered, “Like a goddess incarnate.”

“You flatter me.” she said breathily, trying not to cover herself.

“I like to speak the truth. One day, I hope to make you believe it.”

Her chest rose and fell with rapid breath as his hands traversed her exposed flesh with calloused fingers. Her skin was as soft as that of a peach, and it tasted just as enticing. He kissed a slow trail down the mound of one breast, before closing his lips around the stiffened peak, and Mito moaned openly, assailed by new sensations and the dizzying effect of his hands upon her body.

She was not exactly sure about what she had expected from him, but so far, this experience was already far different from anything her mother or her aunts had told her concerning the act of love. They had given her no indication that this was something that she might actually enjoy, but rather they encouraged her that the best thing she could do to make it easy on herself was lie back, relax, and count the cracks in the ceiling or focus on a mantra in her head until he was finished with her. So far, she was certain nothing with this man would be so simple or mundane. She could hardly string a simple sentence together, let alone repeat a mantra in her head as a distraction.

Her husband sucked and licked at her sensitive flesh until she could feel warm wetness beginning to gather between her legs, which worried her slightly, but the sensations were addicting, and she wanted more. Madara slowly repeated the action on her other breast and she pulled him up for another kiss, meeting his lips with unexpected zeal. He had not even dreamed that she might accept him in this way, and he growled against her mouth, feeling as though his cock grew harder with every passing moment.

Mito bravely tugged at the obi of his yukata with one hand, and he tore it away, tossing the fabric aside and letting the robe fall open. She parted the front panels, tracing the finely sculpted muscles of his chest with one finger. He was even more devastatingly handsome to behold than she thought a man had the right to be, and given the way he took such care in attending to her, she wondered for a moment if there was indeed happiness to be had here. They were still strangers, and as such, they likely had nothing in common save the shared goal of maintaining peace. Mito wondered at his insistence that she give him the chance to make her happy. There was clearly a strong level of almost magical attraction between them physically, and the distinct possibility that love would come later. At this point she supposed that she had little to lose, and if anything, at least their children would be beautiful.

Madara trembled slightly under her touch, before he hastily threw his yukata aside. Mito’s eyes widened at his nudity, having never seen an aroused man before. He seemed well-formed, and relatively well endowed from what she had been told, though now she was beginning to doubt the expertise of the women who had advised her on the mastery of ‘wifely duties.’ Her hands slid down his skin, stopping to feel the numerous scars marking his skin from old wounds, before her curiosity got the best of her and she curled her fingers around his rigid length, stroking him gently, up and down. He suddenly jerked back, panting.

“I’m sorry - was that bad?” Mito bit her lip worriedly.

“Not at all… More like too good.” he said between breaths, gently taking her hand away. “If you want more of me after we’re done, I cannot deny that I would love that, but for now, please let me do what I can for you.”

Mito smiled nervously, and he pressed her shoulders back against the futon, fitting his body against her own. His skin was warm and smooth against hers, and when his mouth slanted over hers again, a palpably mutual sense of hunger passed between them. His mouth blazed burning trails down the length of her body once more, and her stomach flipped as he traveled low, past her navel and her hips, gently pressing her knees apart.

She fidgeted under his gaze, tensing as his eyes flashed crimson, devouring the sight of her spread before him, the delicate folds of her feminine cleft both pink and very wet with desire, exposed to his view and his touch. He looked up at her face, memorizing every detail before he ran his lips across the inside of her thigh, feeling her tremble as his fingers slid tenderly over the swollen flesh, tracing every contour with great care. Madara circled gentle fingertips over the bundle of nerves above her opening and Mito bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan in her throat.

Mito was instantly self conscious at his proximity to the secret places of her body. She knew what lovemaking entailed, but not to this extent. So far, everything she had been told was wrong, and she was left to venture forth into the unknown with this man who made her burn with need. His fingers alone sent pleasure coursing through her body like lightning bolts in miniature, and with every caress, the ache between her legs grew more and more intense. She needed something, but she was not sure what, until his fingers stilled, and the heat of his tongue replaced them between the lips of her womanhood, fixing softly around that little ball of flesh, and teasing her there until her spine curved as taut as a bowstring. She had no time to be embarrassed, or worried that he was now tasting her _there_ , not when he was inflicting such heavenly sensations upon her body. One of his fingers pressed carefully against her opening, sinking deep, and in the instant that he curved his digit, her world fragmented into a million tiny pieces, lost in waves of pleasure, as if he had simultaneously destroyed her and put her back together again under the force of the climax he forced from her body.

Madara reveled in the silken feel of her sweet flesh against his tongue, in her taste, in her scent. Her already-tight passage clenched hard around his invading finger as she met her crisis, and her sinful cries were the single most satisfying sound he had ever heard in his life. His cock throbbed painfully as she pulsed against him, and he wanted, no, _needed_ to be inside her, bringing her to completion again and again. His only regret was that he might have to cause her pain in order to make it so.

He stretched over her, kissing her deeply, and though she was at first alarmed that she could taste herself on his tongue, her body responded, still hungry for more of what he had to offer her. His hips pressed between her own, and the heat of his arousal slid between her nether lips, becoming slick with her wetness, relieving the ache there, but only by a small fraction. As he slid a hand between them to guide himself against her opening, he pulled away from her kiss to look into her eyes once more. She gasped when she saw the scarlet glow and spinning tomoe of the Sharingan, but she reminded herself that she had nothing to fear. She had been warned that it could be triggered by strong emotion, and apparently in this case, desire.

“I will try very hard not to hurt you, but I fear that might not be possible, sweet Mito.” he said in a strained voice. “Please, I beg you, tell me now if you wish me to stop, because after this, I don’t know that I will have the strength of will to resist simply losing myself in you.”

“All is well, Madara. I believe I can take whatever pain might come.” Mito whispered, tilting her hips against him, making him bite his lip at the delicious friction. “Just make this ache go away.”

He groaned, pressing his lips against hers with fierce abandon, as he slotted the head of his arousal against the opening of her body,  and began to enter her as slowly and gently as he was able. The wetness of her body eased the way, but she was still impossibly tight around him. Mito cried out as the tip of his length finally breached her innocence, and a tearing pain seized through the delicate tissues now stretched around his thick member. He watched her, holding himself back with every bit of restraint he could muster, until she nodded slightly, and he pressed forward until every inch was fully sheathed within her perfect body.

Madara held still above her, praying that he might get through this without traumatizing his wife, that she might somehow derive more pleasure out of this night. The baser parts of his nature wanted nothing more than to ravage her senseless and take his own pleasure, but he cared too much to even entertain the thought for more than a few seconds. He studied her carefully, pressing kisses to her cheeks and forehead, trying to soothe her. Mito’s eyes were squeezed shut, with the glimmer of moisture gathering at the corners, and it caused the dull pain of guilt to settle in his chest. He took in a deep breath and steeled himself, knowing he should withdraw. They had gone far enough as to satisfy the elders and the terms of the marriage contract, and perhaps someday he might be able to make it up to her. As he began to move back, she caught him by the shoulders.

“Don’t you dare!” she scolded, wincing. “I told you, I can handle it.”

Without another word, Madara thrust forward the fraction of an inch he had moved, then he drew back and repeated the motion, gently rocking his hips against hers, so that his pubic bone pressed against the center of her pleasure with every slight movement. Mito’s pants became soft sighs as the pleasure began to build ever so slowly, dulling the pain until it was no longer such a hindrance. Her husband seemed lost in a meditation, his otherwordly eyes closed, as sweat glistened along his brow, and his wild black hair brushed across her skin.

“Madara - you can move now.” she whispered against his ear, and he released a ragged breath, drawing his length out of her body, and pressing back inside with long, smooth strokes. The slick stretch of his body filling her over and over again was still intense, but more satisfying with each movement.

Every time he thrust back inside her, the head of his shaft pressed against something sensitive within her passage, and after a while, she could finally feel her body beginning the upward climb toward climax once again. Mito wrapped her legs around his slim hips, experimentally rocking up to meet him as he sank inside her body. The new movement magnified the sensation already building to extremes within her core and she cried out again, only this time in unbridled pleasure.

Madara watched her, committing to his photographic memory the exact moment that her eyes rolled back and her body finally clenched around him in rhythmic spasms of bliss. Her dulcet voice called his name in a shrill moan as she was overwhelmed by the tides of orgasm, and the sound alone was all he needed to drive him over the edge. He promptly joined her in exquisite release, allowing the rush of pleasure to burst forth as he filled her with his seed, groaning her name in response and praise, holding her close until the throes of passion subsided.

They lay in silence for a few moments, as the world slowly came back into focus, along with the realization that the deed was done. They were legally man and wife, securing the peace treaty that would serve to tie the Uzumaki and Uchiha clans together, and eventually forge an alliance with the Senju. It was a dream that was years in the making for all who had yearned for an end to the fighting, and the fact that it was tied to their union lent them both a certain sense of satisfaction that neither could deny.

Madara kissed his wife in the waning firelight, and she smiled at him genuinely for the first time.

New beginnings, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos or comment if you feel so inclined :)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [awintersrose.tumblr.com](http://awintersrose.tumblr.com)


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